


ask a hopeless romantic

by imposterhuman



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Advice Column, Alternate Universe - Journalism, Artist Steve Rogers, Fluff, Identity Porn, James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark Friendship, M/M, Natasha Romanov & Tony Stark Friendship, Oblivious Steve, Oblivious Tony, Pepper Potts & Tony Stark Friendship, Pining, Requited Unrequited Love, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson Friendship, Steve Rogers Feels, Tony Feels, Tony has a heart, columnist tony stark, everyone else is Done, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-11-24 03:59:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20901290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imposterhuman/pseuds/imposterhuman
Summary: Tony glared at his column, trying to come up with better advice thandump his ass. The same person, Loveless in Brooklyn, wrote him every week about, presumably, the same guy. Every week, Tony advised the guy to drop the idiot. Tony had been in enough (failed) relationships to know that it wasn’t worth it to waste your time on someone who didn't want you back. Harsh, but true.If only he could convince himself of that; maybe then he’d stop sending longing glances to Steve Rogers in the art department and move on with his life.or, tony is an anonymous relationship advice columnist and steve really, really needs the help





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> based on [this prompt](https://onemuseleft.tumblr.com/post/182540945635/okay-but-au-where-tony-is-an-advice-columnist-who) from tumblr
> 
> this was a labor of love that i kept forgetting existed, so it took f o r e v e r. i meant for it to be maybe 2k, and it ended at 5.4k, whoops? there are 4 chapters and i'll update every 2 days (probably, counting is not my strong suit), so stay tuned!
> 
> enjoy :)

_ Dear Loveless in Brooklyn, _

_ He doesn’t deserve you! It seems like all you’re doing is chasing after this guy- if he hasn’t caught a clue by now, he’s either an idiot or a douchebag. I know it sucks, but you gotta move on, dude. Life’s too short to waste time on people like that. Two years is a long time to pine for a guy who clearly doesn’t have his shit together. Anyone would be lucky to have you- go and find someone worth your time. _

_ xoxo The Hopeless Romantic _

Tony glared at his column, trying to come up with better advice than  _ dump his ass _ . The same person, Loveless in Brooklyn, wrote him every week about, presumably, the same guy. Every week, Tony advised the guy to drop the idiot. Tony had been in enough (failed) relationships to know that it wasn’t worth it to waste your time on someone who didn't want you back. Harsh, but true.

If only he could convince himself of that; maybe then he’d stop sending longing glances to Steve Rogers in the art department and move on with his life.

“Stark!” Natasha, his terrifying section editor, smacked the back of his head as she passed. “We needed your column  _ yesterday _ . Is it done?”

“I’m reporting you for abuse,” he told her as he emailed the file, backdating it quickly. “It’s in your inbox. It arrived on time yesterday. Check the timestamp.”

“I just watched you send it,” she raised an eyebrow. “Right now.”

He spread his hands and shrugged. “Time isn’t real.”

“Pepper will make you do the website formatting if you keep submitting things late,” Natasha warned him. 

Tony shivered at the thought of their editor in chief. If Natasha was terrifying, Pepper was a literal demon. She was scarily competent, too; he had no doubt that she’d follow through on her threats.

“You can’t prove anything,” he said, smiling like a fiend. “Timestamps are on my side.”

“One of these days, Stark…” said Natasha, leaving to go harass the other late writers. Tony breathed out a sigh of relief when she left him without any stab wounds, not that he’d tell her that.

“Love you, too, Nat!” he called after her. She just flipped him off, leveling a truly ominous smile at Clint, who gulped in fear.

Tony pulled up his column again.  _ Ask a Hopeless Romantic  _ was one of their more popular sections, much to his chagrin. He had started the column years ago as a joke, citing his multitude of experience with failed relationships as justification to Pepper. Mainly, he was bored and wanted something new (and he wanted to stop pining over unattainable men, but that was a separate issue).

He hadn’t expected it to take off like it did; people really  _ sucked  _ at relationships, apparently, and were more desperate than he thought. He fielded around forty submissions a week, choosing three or four to answer for each edition. Without fail, though, he always answered Loveless in Brooklyn, the theme of pining over a coworker a little too familiar.

Steve Rogers was art in human form, in Tony’s absolutely unbiased opinion. The man’s muscles had muscles, for one; he looked like a blond Adonis. Tony could talk for hours about his eyes, if he was drunk. None of that was normally what got him flustered; he could talk circles around anyone, attractive or not, and he had certainly met many gorgeous men and women throughout his life.

No, Steve had to be  _ nice _ , too.

Steve went out of his way to say hello to people, to ask about their families and their hobbies and their pets. He never seemed to get exasperated with the general human condition (stupidity, which Tony could attest to) or the chronic lateness of his section. He was always  _ smiling _ . It drove Tony crazy, that one person could be that  _ good _ . 

He was either a saint or on some really good weed, Tony hadn't decided yet. Either way, Tony could admit to his massive crush on the man; only, not to Pepper (she’d give him the eyebrows of disappointment), not to Rhodey (he’d embarrass him as revenge), or literally anyone else he knew. 

He was fine with pining in silence, really. 

It didn’t help that Steve’s particular brand of friendliness extended to Tony, too. Every day, Steve brought Tony a coffee from the break room and stayed for a chat until Pepper or Natasha inevitably yelled at them for slacking off (and by  _ them _ , he meant himself. It must have been illegal to yell at Steve, or something, because neither woman ever did). 

Right on time, Steve with his stupidly sunny smile and unfairly pretty face came up to Tony’s desk, setting his coffee in front of Tony. 

“Hey, Tony,” he greeted. “Did you make your deadline?”

Tony snatched the cup of coffee and drank it greedily. “Only because Natasha is a slave driver,” he grumbled. “Cruel woman, harassing me because apparently I’m ‘late’ and ‘irresponsible’.” He made finger quotes to show how unimpressed he was with his section editor. 

Steve smothered a laugh. “You know,” he teased, flicking Tony’s forehead. “You could always turn in your columns on time.”

“Steven, darling, do you even  _ know  _ how much work I have?” Tony challenged. 

“I have a feeling you’re about to tell me.”

Tony sniffed haughtily. “ _ Now _ I’m not, asshole,” he said primly, turning back to his work. “You’re the worst.”

“Guess I don’t need to bring you coffee anymore,” teased Steve, making a move to to take the mug. “If I’m the worst and all.”

“If you take my coffee, I will take your  _ life _ .”

Steve chuckled fondly. Tony blamed the warm feeling in his chest on drinking the hot coffee too fast, not Steve’s stupidly attractive face. 

“Okay, Tony,” he said, holding his hands up in surrender. 

“ _ Anthony Edward Stark! _ ” Right on cue, Pepper walked on on her heels of death. 

“Oh, shit,” Tony whimpered, trying to remember what he forgot. “Steve, if you’ve ever loved me, you’ll let me hide behind you and tell Pep I’m dead, or something.”

Obediently, Steve slid in front of Tony, who had darted under his desk. 

“Hello, Miss Potts,” he greeted earnestly, like he wasn’t blocking her view of her victim. “Having a nice morning?”

“Wonderful, Steve,” she said warmly. “Now, if you’ll step out of the way? I have a writer to disembowel.”

Steve complied easily, probably thinking she was kidding. Tony watched him move aside to reveal an unimpressed Pepper. He could only see her ankles, but he  _ knew  _ she was making her patented look of disapproval. 

“Pepper, sweetheart, light of my life and wind beneath my wings,” he tried, standing slowly. Behind her, Steve looked like he had been sucking on a lemon. Maybe he didn’t like seeing Tony disappoint Pepper? “Whatever it was, I didn’t do it?”

“That’s exactly my point,” Pepper deadpanned. “I need your feature piece.”

“Bruce is on features this week,” Tony said nervously. “Right?”

“Wrong.”

“Oh, shit,” Tony repeated slowly, fingers twitching at the dangerous tone in her voice. “Have I ever told you you have beautiful eyes?”

“Every time you think it will get you out of trouble,” Pepper said sweetly. 

“Has it ever worked?”

“Not once.”

Tony winced. “Steve, a little help here?” he said, glaring at his friend.

Steve shook his head. “She could kill me with a single high heel, Tony,” he said. “I’m not getting involved, not even for you.”

“Traitor,” hissed Tony.

Pepper smiled. “Thank you, Steve,” she said. “Tony, get that piece on my desk by the end of the day,  _ or else _ .”

“Love you, Pep!” Tony called weakly as she left. 

“Do you do that with everyone?” Steve asked, face unreadable.

“Do what?” Tony said, confused. “Anger them to the point where they not-so-secretly plan my murder? Pretty much, yeah.”

Steve made a soft noise of frustration. “That’s not… never mind,” he smiled at Tony. “I should let you get back to work.”

“Steve, wait,” Tony called, but the man was already gone, leaving Tony with a lingering sense of unease. 

He didn’t have time to dwell, though; Pepper would have his intestines as a scarf if he didn’t finish his piece. But the feeling lingered under his skin, as much as he tried to ignore it.

What had he done wrong?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> enjoy :))

_ Dear Hopeless in Love, _

_ I can’t just get over him, unfortunately- I’ve tried. He’s basically ruined me for everyone else and we haven’t even dated! Do you have any advice to get him to notice me? He flirts with literally everyone else except me. I even caught him flirting with the coffee machine yesterday. What does it mean? _

_ Thanks, _

_ Loveless in Brooklyn _

Steve sent his question as soon as he got back to his office, three floors away from Tony Stark’s easy charm. He didn’t know who in the office ran it (probably Bruce; the man was practically the staff therapist, no matter how often he claimed that he  _ wasn’t that kind of doctor _ . Even Clint would be qualified, as all of his relationships tended to crash and burn quite epically), but they always answered him. They probably felt bad that he was so pathetic in their inbox every week. 

He sighed, turning back to his work. He had to finish his set of sketches for the end of the day; he didn’t want to stay late tonight. Every Friday, the staff went out for drinks and Steve didn’t want to miss the little bit of time he got with Tony outside the office.

The magazine published a weekly comic,  _ Avengers Assemble _ , and Steve was in charge of most of it. If he based the dashing Iron Man, armored hero saving everyone with a smirk and a one-liner, off of a certain writer, no one really knew.

“What’s Stark doing this week?” Sam asked, coming and clapping his shoulder. So maybe  _ some  _ people knew. 

“ _ Iron Man _ ,” Steve stressed. “Is currently offering Loki a drink, stalling for time so the rest of the Avengers can arrive.”

“I still think it’s weird that you made Thor’s kid brother the bad guy,” Sam chuckled. “Loki’s actually pretty nice, when you get past the seventeen layers of asshole. I mean, I assume he is. I’m at layer twelve.”

“Loki literally told me that if I didn’t make him the villain, he’d gut me like a fish,” Steve deadpanned. “I did it under duress.”

“Sounds like Loki,” Sam agreed. “Why is Stark offering him a drink? They hate each other.”

In real life, Tony and Loki didn’t  _ really  _ hate each other; they just liked to argue with someone of equal wit. Steve didn’t pretend to understand it, not after he heard Tony call Loki  _ an uneducated weasel soaked in bacon fat  _ and Loki respond with  _ well, at least I don’t look like a naked mole rat who drowned in someone’s dirty bathtub water _ . Ten minutes later, they were drinking and laughing together. So yeah, Steve didn’t understand (and he was pretty sure he didn’t want to). 

“Don’t worry, Iron Man is definitely going to blast Loki,” he said rather than try to explain Tony and Loki’s odd friendship. “But first, Loki is going to throw him out a window.”

“Yeah, that’s more like it,” Sam nodded. “Say, are you coming out tonight?”

“If I can finish my panel,” said Steve, sketching in another line. 

“Better hurry,” Sam teased. “Watching you flirt awkwardly is what gets me through the week.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Go away, Sam, or I’ll assign you more work,” he threatened. “I’ll make you work with Rumlow, too, and you don’t want that.”

Sam shuddered theatrically. “I’m going,” he said quickly. “Finish your panel!”

Steve dutifully got back to work inking the details of Iron Man’s armor. If it was red and gold, Tony’s favorite colors, it was entirely coincidental. 

He wasn’t pining.  _ He wasn’t _ .

Time flew by as he drew, and before he knew it, he was parsing over the panels with ink-stained fingers and declaring them finished. Iron Man’s unsmiling mask stared back at him from most of them, the hero standing victorious with his team by the end. 

(If Captain America, the character subtly based on himself, was staring with stars in his eyes at Iron Man in the background, it was fan service only. A surprising amount of readers clamored for the two to get together. Steve was just listening to the will of the people.)

“Steve!” Tony called, getting out of the elevator. “Are you coming for drinks?”

Steve quickly flipped his sketchbook over to hide it; he had started to idly draw Tony in the margins.

“Is it time to go already?” he asked, checking his watch. 

Tony rolled his eyes. “No, I just came to visit your floor for no reason,” he snarked. “Of course I’m here to get you.”

“Why do you hate this floor so much, anyway?” Steve grabbed his coat and walked towards the elevator, where Tony was waiting nervously. 

“Bugs,” Tony shuddered, looking around like he expected one to jump out at him. “Last time I was up here, Rumlow’s asshole tarantula tried to kill me.”

“That was, like, five years ago,” Steve pointed out. 

“I’m not coming any further until that monster is dead and its corpse burned.”

“Tony, we can’t kill Rumlow’s pet,” said Steve, laughing. “Technically, he’s an emotional support tarantula.”

Tony arched an eyebrow. “Is that what we’re calling demons these days?”

Steve hit the button, sending them down to the ground floor. “He has the paperwork.”

“Which you can buy online. Hell, I could register  _ Clint  _ as my emotional support animal.”

Steve suppressed the irrational flare of jealousy. It wasn’t like he  _ wanted  _ to be an emotional support animal, he just wanted to be  _ considered _ . Inwardly, he cursed his own patheticness.

“Clint isn’t a pet,” he said, a few beats too late. 

Tony was looking at him strangely. “All good, Steve?” he asked. “I can just walk you home; we don’t have to go out tonight. Everyone will understand.”

“I’m fine,” Steve said as they stepped out of the elevator. “Just tired. Long day, you know?”

“If you say so,” said Tony, letting it drop with a skeptical glance. “Did you hear what Thor from Sports did?”

Steve followed Tony out on to the street, walking towards the bar where their friends were. “Did he throw a hammer through the window again?”

“Worse,” Tony said gravely. “He threw a hammer into Pep’s office.”

“And he’s still  _ alive _ ?”

Tony laughed. It was unfairly attractive. “I’m as shocked as you are.”

“How did that even happen?” Steve asked, linking arms with Tony as they walked. He and Tony were both tactile; it was normal and completely platonic. 

“I might have told him that there was no way he could throw the hammer across the office,” Tony admitted sheepishly. “In my defense, I really didn’t think he’d be able to.”

“Tony!” Steve scolded fondly. “You had to know he was going to take that as a challenge.”

“I honestly didn’t think that he would be stupid enough to do it when he  _ knew  _ Pepper was in her room.”

“Thor never backs down from a challenge,” Steve said, grabbing the bar door and holding it open. “After you.”

Tony batted his eyelashes dramatically. “Why, Steven!” he said, pitching his voice high and breathy. “You’re just a perfect gentleman, aren't you?”

“Get inside, you,” Steve rolled his eyes and swatted the back of Tony’s head. 

Tony’s laugh mingled well with the warm atmosphere inside the bar. Easily, they spotted their friends taking up one of the biggest tables. Tony bounded ahead to greet them while Steve followed at a more sedate pace. 

By the time Steve got to the table, Tony was already sprawled across Rhodey’s lap, leaning over to kiss an unimpressed Pepper on the cheek. Steve felt jealousy flare hot in his belly, but he smiled anyway and sat down next to Sam and Bruce. 

“To another successful week!” Natasha toasted once they were all present, raising her vodka. Sam handed Steve a beer and the table devolved into conversation. Tony was jabbering on about some science thing with Rhodey and Bruce, while Sam was watching Steve be utterly pathetic with his not-subtle staring.

“You can talk to him, you know,” Sam leaned over. “You’re being creepy.”

“You’re being creepy,” Steve muttered, taking a long sip of his beer. “Shut up.”

Sam just chuckled. “Stark!” he called. “Steve had a question for you!”

“Yeah, Steve?” Tony turned all of his focus on Steve. He was smiling wide, face open.

“No, I didn’t,” Steve stuttered out, blushing. “Sam’s just an asshole.”

“Ah,” almost imperceptibly, Tony’s face fell. “Well. If you, uh, think of something…”

Steve nodded, throat tight. “Yeah,” he said awkwardly. 

“Idiot,” hissed Sam, smacking the back of his head and glaring. “You’re so stupid.”

“I know,” said Steve, burying his face in his hands. Tony’s crestfallen face was still on the forefront of his mind and he felt like an absolute asshole.

The night could not be over soon enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and kudos make my day!!
> 
> yell at me on tumblr [@imposter-human](https://imposter-human.tumblr.com/)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> enjoy!

_ Dear Loveless in Brooklyn, _

_ The rom-com watcher in me says that maybe you’re special; maybe he doesn’t flirt with you because he wants something more serious? But you probably shouldn’t hinge your hopes on it. If he doesn’t notice you when you’re being yourself,  _ he doesn’t deserve you.  _ Don’t be like Sandy and change yourself for a guy. There are a lot of fish in the sea; don’t pick the asshole fish that won’t even look at the worm (if you couldn’t tell, I don’t know anything about fishing). _

_ xoxo The Hopeless Romantic _

Tony grimaced, hitting send on his latest round of responses. He was feeling more and more unqualified to be giving romantic advice to anyone as his Steve situation continued to worsen. As in, Steve seemed to have forgotten he existed. 

After Friday’s post-publication celebration, Steve had gone out of his way to avoid Tony. Sure, he still brought coffee every morning, but he waited for Tony to be away from his desk to deliver it. Their morning conversations had ceased completely and Tony had never been more productive. He hated it.

Even Pepper was starting to get worried, if her frown when he turned his columns in early was any indication.

But Tony just took it all in stride. And if his pieces had a bit more nihilism than usual, well, that was his business. He’d been rejected before, and he’d be rejected again. It sucked, yeah, but he’d get through it.

At least, that was what he told himself when Steve literally hid under Sam’s desk when Tony went to deliver something to the other graphic designer. 

All in all, Tony wasn’t having a great week, and it was only Wednesday. 

‘“I just don’t understand,” he whined to Rhodey, sitting on the other writer’s desk and generally being a nuisance. He swiped the pen out of Rhodey’s hand, toying with it idly. “Why doesn’t he like me anymore?”

“Why don’t you ask him?” Rhodey mimicked his tone and snatched his pen back. “Aren’t you an adult?”

“Reluctantly,” said Tony. “And only when forced. Or when at a bar.”

Rhodey sighed loudly. “Use your words,” he advised. “If I had to bet, there was some kind of miscommunication between you two.”

“How could there be a miscommunication if there was no communication, Platypus?” Tony moaned, flopping on top of Rhodey’s work. 

Mercilessly, Rhodey shoved him off the desk. “Talk to him,” he repeated sternly. “And then let me know if I need to kick his ass.”

“I appreciate the offer, Honey Bear,” said Tony. “But it’s more likely that we’re both going to internalize this, never speak again, and end up changing our names and moving to foreign countries to escape the awkward. Personally, I’ve always wanted to live in Italy, and I think Natasha probably knows a guy who can get me a fake ID and papers.”

“Okay, drama queen,” Rhodey rolled his eyes. “Let me know how your conversation goes.”

“You are no help!” Tony shouted over his shoulder as he walked back to his desk. Under his breath, he muttered, “Stupid, telling me to talk to people. What does he think I am, mature? Able to act like a normal human being?”

“No, you’re none of those things,” Natasha said dryly, appearing out of nowhere to fall in step with him. 

Tony would deny the shriek he made until his dying day. “Nat!” he gasped. “I have a heart condition!”

“And a problem with a certain artist, according to a little birdie,” she said casually, tossing her red hair over one shoulder. “Care to share?”

“Not really,” he grumbled, sitting down and taking a swig from his cold coffee. He winced. “But I will if you get me fresh coffee.”

“Already done,” Natasha said smoothly, whipping a steaming mug out from behind her back. “Now talk. Spare no detail.”

Few people outside the office knew it, but Natasha was an absolute  _ fiend  _ for gossip. She liked to know everything about everyone (a trait Tony liked a lot more when it wasn’t focused on him and his business). It made her great at her job, though, so no one complained. 

“Steve is ignoring me,” he said, trying not to show how much it affected him. “The asshole won’t even talk to me. I caught him ducking under Sam’s desk when I got out of the elevator on his floor! And the worst part is that I don’t even know what I did!”

Natasha thought for a moment. “I could always kill him,” she suggested, utterly serious. “I know a guy that’d deal with the body, no questions asked.”

“That’s sweet, but I’m trying to deal with my problems without murder,” he said dejectedly. “Thanks for the offer, though.”

“Suit yourself,” said Natasha with a shrug. She softened minutely. “Talk to him, Tony. It’s not as bad as you think it is.”

“You don’t know that,” Tony muttered, opening his computer to get back to work.

“I know everything,” she ruffled his hair fondly. “Now, get that feature done by 5, you hear me? And talk to Steve!”

“You ask too much!” he called after her. 

Tony tapped at his computer idly, writing and deleting words. Nothing sounded right on the page. His mind was too occupied with Steve to even consider writing anything with his usual eloquence.

Groaning loudly, he shut his computer and pushed away from the desk. Tony stood, ambling towards the break room. Maybe stealing Rhodey’s lunch would give him inspiration to write  _ something _ . It sure couldn’t hurt.

Tony nabbed Rhodey’s pudding from the fridge. Normally, just imagining the look on his best friend’s face when he noticed his missing food would be enough to raise Tony’s spirits, but not today. Dejectedly, he swung the fridge door shut and ran face-first into Steve’s chest.

“Ow,” he said intelligently, trying not to get distracted by the muscles he could feel under Steve’s button down. “What are you made of, concrete?”

“Something like that,” Steve said, turning bright red and stepping away. “Sorry.”

He went to leave, but Tony was done with the bullshit avoidance game they were playing. “Steve, wait,” he called. “I know you’re avoiding me and all that, but you don’t have to eat lunch at your desk. Come sit, I’ll go.”

“No, don’t,” Steve shook his head. “I’ve been a dick. You don’t have to leave.”

They sat down at the break table like usual, except for the nerves threatening to overtake Tony’s whole body. “Want to explain, then?” he asked, purposefully casual. “You’ve basically been acting like I have the plague.”

“I’m sorry, Tony,” Steve looked genuinely remorseful, and the knot of anger in Tony’s chest unraveled. “I’ve just been going through some things. I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

Tony smiled at his friend. “You know you can always talk to me, right?”

“It’s not…” Steve blushed curiously. “It’s a relationship thing.”

“Oh,” Tony felt like he had been sucker punched, but he hid it admirably. “I’m great at relationship advice. Hit me.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “You?” he said skeptically. “I thought you didn’t do relationships.”

“But I do watch a lot of rom coms,” Tony shrugged mildly. “And I consider myself somewhat of an expert at failed romance. Really, there’s no one better you could ask.”

“Fine,” sighed Steve, running a hand through his hair. Tony wanted to do the same, so he discreetly sat on his hands in a stunning display of self control. “There’s this guy, okay? And I’ve tried flirting, tried asking him out, and I can’t tell if he’s rejecting me or genuinely that oblivious.”

Tony bit down a flare of jealousy. “He’s an idiot,” he said decisively. Anyone would be lucky to be with Steve, to have Steve’s affection. “Have you tried just talking to him?”

Steve laughed out loud. “Yes,” he said warmly. “And he still doesn't seem to get it. I just…” he played with his food nervously. “There are a lot of fish in the sea, right? I shouldn’t pick the asshole fish that won’t even look at the worm.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Tony stared at Steve, eyes wide. That sentence was familiar, the source on the tip of his tongue. “ _ Loveless in Brooklyn _ ?”

“You read  _ Ask a Hopeless Romantic _ ?” Steve looked strangely mortified.

“Steve,” Tony said carefully. He’d thought Steve had known who wrote the anonymous advice column; it wasn’t like it was a secret. Most of the staff knew, if not all of them. “That’s my column. I  _ am  _ the Hopeless Romantic.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and kudos make my day!!
> 
> yell at me on tumblr [@imposter-human](https://imposter-human.tumblr.com/)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and were at the end! thanks for reading, yall :))
> 
> enjoy!!

“But that’s irrelevant right now,” Tony prattled on, oblivious. “Even if it does lend to my credibility at giving romantic advice. Anyway, Steve, continue?”

Steve was too busy hoping that the ground would swallow him up to do anything but gape. 

“ _ You’re  _ the Hopeless Romantic?” he repeated. 

Tony made a face. “I just said that,” he said. “Are you going deaf, or something?”

“Oh my god,” Steve buried his face in his hands. He was pretty sure that he was going to have to create a new identity and leave the country to escape the awkwardness. “ _ Oh my god _ .”

“Am I missing something?” asked Tony. He frowned, thinking. “I’m definitely missing something.”

Steve’s heart was ready to beat out of his chest. There was no way he could hide it now, not when Tony’s eyes were starting to gleam with the thrill of a puzzle to be solved. His mouth started moving, almost without his consent. 

“I submit to your column every week,” he blurted out, embarrassed. “Please kill me now.”

“Holy shit,” Tony grinned, but there was an odd edge to it. “You have a crush! Who is it? Have I been helpful? What pseudonym do you use? It’s gotta be one of the not creepy ones, because you’re a sweetheart… wait…”

“Tony,” Steve started as Tony began to put the pieces together. 

“Are you actually  _ Loveless in Brooklyn _ ?” Tony looked shocked. “I thought you were just quoting him!”

Steve considered denying it, but he could never lie to Tony. “Maybe I am,” he hedged. He looked at the ceiling quickly, praying it would collapse and bury him in concrete. Maybe that would get him out of the inquisition he knew was coming. 

“Who is it?” asked Tony faux-casually. “You can tell me; I won’t make fun of you. Well, not excessively. But a little bit, because I feel like I deserve that. You know-”

“Tony, you’re rambling,” Steve said gently. Tony always rambled when he was nervous or upset; Steve wasn’t sure which it was this time.

“Is it Sam?” Tony blinked, ignoring him altogether. “He’s nice, I guess. Your type, right? As long as it’s not Barton, you’ll get away with minimal mocking. Or, like, Rumlow. It’s not Rumlow, is it?”

“It’s not Rumlow,” said Steve.

“Nat, then? Or Pep? Please don’t tell me it’s Pep, she’ll eat you ali-”

“It’s you,” he admitted. Tony fell silent immediately, but Steve couldn’t stop talking if he tried. “It’s you, Tony. You and all your crazy ideas, your terrible jokes, your coffee addiction. I like you so much that I wrote to a relationship advice column! And I can’t get over you, even though I  _ know _ nothing’s ever going to happen, and I’m sorry. Can we just… can we stay friends?”

Tony had been silent throughout his whole rant, just watching Steve. “No,” he said quietly. Steve’s heart stopped. “Because I want to be more than friends, Steve.” He smiled helplessly. “I started that column as a distraction to stop pining over you, for God's sake. Pepper can verify, by the way.”

“Are you joking?” Realism crushed any burgeoning belief Steve felt.There was no way Tony- smart, gorgeous, out of his league Tony- could feel the same, right? “Because if you are, I don’t find it funny.” 

“Not joking,” Tony shook his head, face splitting into a grin. “I really like you, Steve. I just thought you didn’t like me.”

Steve reached across the table and held Tony’s hand lightly. “How could I not like you?” he asked. “I’m pretty sure I was doomed from the first time we spoke and you lectured me on the correct way to make  _ octopus  _ plural.”

“Well,” Tony leaned in a little, whispering conspiratorially. “I have you beat.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he winked. “Because I knew I was doomed when I saw you coming out of the elevator in that too-tight dress shirt you wore on your first day and ran into the door of Pep’s office because I was staring.”

Steve barked out a laugh. “We’re hopeless, aren’t we?” he complained, a twinkle in his eye.

“Think of how much earlier we could’ve gotten together if we weren’t oblivious idiots,” Tony agreed.

“Is that what we’re doing?” Steve said, naked hope in his voice. “Getting together?” 

“If you want to,” said Tony, uncharacteristically shy. “I know I do.”

“I do, too,” Steve said quietly, sincerely. He bent his head down a little bit, lips a hair's breadth from Tony’s. His eyes fluttered shut as he and Tony closed the distance in sync, only to spring apart as if burnt when slow, sarcastic clapping started up from the corner of the room.

“Fucking  _ finally _ ,” Clint said dryly, taking a bite from his own lunch and watching them unashamedly. “Seriously, I’ve been watching you pine for  _ months _ . Did you know that the upper end of the betting pool has you going another  _ year _ before you get your shit together? And that’s realistic!”

“How long have you been there?” Steve squeaked, whirling towards the other man.

“Long enough to know you’re both idiots,” Clint shot back. “I was so close to winning the pot, but you just had to be dumb.”

Steve was too embarrassed to respond. He knew his face was on fire and he wanted to run out of the room. Tony had no such problem, though.

“What the hell, Barton?” he squawked indignantly. “You had a betting pool?”

“Yep,” said Clint, popping the ‘p’. “Natasha won. She’s freaky like that. Down to the day, actually.”

“That little spider,” Tony muttered, shaking his head. “Say, Barton, what are your policies on interference?”

Clint narrowed his eyes. “She rigged it, didn’t she,” he sighed, and it wasn’t a question. 

“Played me like a fiddle,” Tony confirmed, a slight smirk playing on his lips that Steve really wanted to taste. “That’s definitely against the rules, right?”

Steve was more than a little in awe of the way Tony was twisting Clint in knots to get him to leave. His competence was more attractive than it should have been. 

“Yes, it is,” Clint grumbled. He stood to go. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to go find Natasha.”

Tony waved jauntily at the other writer’s back, then turned back to Steve. “Now,” he purred, cheeks slightly red. “Where were we?”

“I believe,” said Steve, voice husky. “That I was about to kiss you.”

“By all means, kiss away,” Tony shifted forward, finally pressing their lips together. It was chaste and sweet, but probably the best kiss Steve had ever had. Too soon, he was pulling away and resting his forehead against Tony’s.

“Good?” he asked.

Tony flicked his nose with a laugh. “Don’t fish for compliments,” he scolded fondly, then softened. “It was great. Do it again?”

Steve was only too happy to oblige.

  
  


_ Dear Hopeless Romantic, _

_ Don’t forget about our date tonight, sweetheart.  _

_ Thanks, _

_ Loving in Brooklyn _

  
  


_ Dear Loving in Brooklyn, _

_ There’s no need to use my column to flirt with me, your desk is a floor away from mine. Pick me up at seven, I’ll be waiting.  _

_ xoxo The Hopeless Romantic _

  
  


_ Dear Hopeless Romantic, _

_ Stop being sappy with Steve. It’s gross. We’re reporting you to Pepper. _

_ Love, _

_ Every single writer in the building who is sick and tired of walking in on you two. Seriously. Get a room.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and kudos make my day!!
> 
> yell at me on tumblr [@imposter-human](https://imposter-human.tumblr.com/)

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos make my day!!
> 
> yell at me on tumblr [@imposter-human](https://imposter-human.tumblr.com/)


End file.
